Batman: Tomorrow Knight
by Babylon Sky Hawk
Summary: Fourty years after the disappearance of Batman, Gotham City has become a sanctuary for the criminal element. But with a new Dark Knight patrolling the streets, there may be some hope yet.
1. Never Again

**Batman: Tomorrow Knight**

Batman © DC Comics

**Note: **Long time writer of Sonic the Hedgehog taking a stab into the Batman universe. This story is an alternate reality version to the former Batman Beyond, which has just been made into its own comic series. Most of the stuff that makes Batman was good, but I've always felt that more could be added to improve the series. And, in my opinion, I didn't think that the villains really lived up to Batman's standards with the exception of Inque and Shriek. I plan on bringing back some classical characters with some original characters of my own and hope to receive your approval. The series starts from the conclusion of Batman: Arkham Asylum and will continue from there. Enjoy.

* * *

Season One: Never Again

Arkham Asylum has always had a reputation of being the one true 'Hell on Earth' in a sense, home to delusional murders, ill-tempered psychopaths, and anyone that fell under the category of a 'super criminal'. But after tonight's events, Hell would be a more preferable place to be at the moment. After a complicated plot outlined by the Joker – Gothem's number one criminal – the island had literally been torn apart in more ways than one. Medical vehicles were burned or tipped, dead bodies of security and inmates littered the ground for miles, and few strains of plant life remained from Poison Ivy's earlier mutation. This was one night that had changed everyone's lives and would affect the lives of Gothem City – forever. Flying over from the distance borders of Gothem City, radio news helicopters bravely crossed the boundaries into Arkham territory. Sentinel spotlights flashed across the grounds in their search for the main attraction.

"Arkham Asylum remains under lock down at the mercy of the ramping inmate!" News reporter Jack Ryder announced over beating of the chopper blades. "Just ten minutes ago, we received this tapes message!"

"_Greetings, Gothem! Joker here! Arkham is mine!_" The Joker's voice announced exuberantly._ "Soon, I will unleash madness untold onto the streets of Gothem! But first, direct your eyes to the rooftops and witness the final destruction of your dear Dark Knight!"_

"We've been circling the tower since…" Jack Ryder continued, suddenly drawn away by a flash of fire appearing from the roof of the penitentiary. "Wait, there! Joker's making his move!"

Almost immediately, the group of copters altered their course towards the direction of the flare as something large began to emerge from a hole in the steel grates. It was unlike anything they had ever seen before and that's saying something. The Joker ad finally made his appearance to Gothem, but his insanity finally forced him to reveal the monster within. The deranged psychopath now stood ten feet tall with his once porcelain-white skin now blotched by infected scabs, broken sinew, and small trails of blood running down his sides. The interaction with the Titan chemicals had forced bone fragments to stretch past his elbows, his spinal cord was perfectly visible, his nails had extended by several feet, and his ribcage was exposed through his developed muscles. As if a super powered Joker wasn't bad enough, the hero of Gothem – Batman – was being lifted by the abominable clown like a rag doll. His ghoulish grin was wider than humanly possible as the helicopters circled the makeshift arena, leering down at his prey excitedly.

"Show time, Batman!" Joker said in a maniacal tone, throwing the Dark Knight into the floorboards. "Let's give the rubes somethin' to talk about! Two freaks in a fight to the death!" As the Caped Crusader attempted to push himself up, Joker displayed his unsportsmanlike attitude by literally kicking him when he's down. "And for one night only, please welcome our special guest referee!"

A spotlight ignited over to the side of the cage, displaying Commissioner James Gordon strapped to a makeshift chair. But given Joker's mania, there was no way he was going to let the old man off that easily. One of the Joker's clown-faced goons flipped the switch to a nearby circuit breaker, forcing was seemed to be five-thousand volts through the commissioner's body. Batman would have tried to save him, but he had his own problems to deal with. The problem in question stomped loudly across the arena – splintering the wood with each step – and once again held the Dark Knight within his grip.

"Come on!" Joker demanded. "Change! Get Crazy! It's the only way to beat me!" He brought his arch-enemy closer, whispering to him in a low, sinister tone. "You know you want to."

"Never." Batman growled.

Earlier, Batman had been infected with the same chemicals that had transformed Joker into his monstrous state. He had been able to resist the change so far, but the effects were becoming stronger with each passing moment. And the Joker's sadistic torture wasn't helping any. Though he had planned to use it on Titan-enhanced clown, the Batman was forced with no other option. The Dark Knight pulled the needle containing the anti-Titan serum and stabbed it directly into his own chest. The effects were made instant as the antidote began to circulate through his bloodstream, eliminating any trace of the Titan's mutagen.

"You wasted the antidote on yourself?" Joker cackled victoriously. "Now that's funny!"

The Clown Prince of Crime swatted his arch-enemy clear across the arena, throwing him into the electrified fence that surrounded them. Thankfully, his suit managed to absorb most of the blow. The thunderous footsteps of the Joker moved closer and Batman spotted the titan-enhanced lunatic before lifting himself skyward. His fast reflexes pulled the Dark Knight to roll safely away before the sadistic clown crashed landed into the floorboard, creating a large crack between them.

"Hysterical." Joker giggled insanely. "But you still spoiled my fun. And for that, I'll paint Arkham with your blood."

"You won't win Joker." Batman forewarned, shrugging off the stabbing pain in his arms. "No matter when or where, I'll always be there to stop you."

"We'll see about that, bats." Joker smiled in a devilish manner. "Let's get ready to tango!"

Batman never was much for dancing, but it looks like he wouldn't have a choice in the matter. With his already impressive reach, the Titan-powered Joker swiped his clawed hands across the air, barely passing over the Dark Knight's pointed ears. The Batman rolled under the clown's arms and pushed himself upwards, raising his fist in the process for a powerful uppercut that would force any normal person into submission. But the Joker was never normal to begin with. His head bounced back from the initial contact, but Joker's new strength made him too powerful for any standard form of attack. With his signature cackle, the monstrous clown closed his claw over Batman's outstretched arm and tossed himself aside with minimal effort. The Caped Crusader landed on his side, rolled a few feet under the shadow of Gordon's chair. The commissioner struggled against his binds, wanting nothing more than to beat the Clown Prince of Crime with his own bare hands. But his actions earned him another quick jolt from his torture machine. The Batman raised himself to his knees with his view on Gordon, but more increasingly focused on the wires connected to the chair. He started pulling out his signature batarang from his utility belt when the Joker grabbed him around the waist from behind, lifting him back into the air. The Batarang clattered uselessly on the floorboard.

"Naughty, naughty." Joker said in a cruel joking tone. "We wouldn't want to spoil the fun now would we? Hey, boys, how 'bout another round for the old coot! I think he wants it!"

The goons once again flipped the switch, sending another surge of electricity through the aging officer. James Gordon was stronger than most men on the police force, but even he had his limits. And based on the fact that he was barely keeping his eyes open meant he was reaching his breaking point. Acting out in blind instinct, the Batman raised his foot and crushed his heel against the Joker's lengthy nose. It would seem that some parts of the clown's body was still vulnerable to regular attacks as the Titan-enhanced Joker dropped his arch-enemy and staggered backwards with his hands over his face. At the moment the Dark Knight touched the floor, he rolled forward to retrieve the dropped batarang and released a wild shot to the fence. Amazingly enough, the weapon snapped through the wires and disconnected the power to Gordon's torture machine – he could breathe easy again. One situation out of the way, the Caped Crusader turned back to a very pissed Joker – a trail of blood leaked from his crooked nose.

"You'll die for that, Batman!" Joker exclaimed furiously. "When I get my hands on you, I'm gonna rip your freakin' head off!"

"I'm not afraid of you, Joker." Batman proclaimed coolly.

"Well, ya better learn fast." Joker said threateningly. "Because when I'm done with you, you'll be beggin' to die."

The Clown Prince of Crime lunged forward with his claws stretched out in front. The Batman quickly jumped over his arch-enemies hands, pressed his heel into the clown's head, and flipped over to land safely on the Joker's spine. The wood splintered under the impact of the titan-enhanced lunatic and briefly restrained the Joker's claws in the floorboard. While the sadistic monster struggled to break free, Batman roped his zip-line around one of the spines before shooting the other end away with his bat-claw. The Caped Crusader activated the retracting function of his bat-claw before jumping away, watching the Joker being pulled towards the fence. The impact was more powerful than the Dark Knight expected as the Titan-enhanced clown dropped out of sight through the makeshift barrier. Batman watched and waited – Joker wouldn't be taken down that easily. His prediction soon came true in the form of a stone block flying over the fence and dropped in the area when the bat was standing. The Batman, however, swiftly dived to his right and allowed the broken slab to fall through the floor, exposing the multitude of power generators hidden beneath. Those could come in handy later. In the meantime, Joker emerged from the gaping hole in the arena – his eternal smile was no longer present.

"You are really starting to piss me of, bats." Joker proclaimed. "Why can't you just stand still and die like a man."

"Who says I'm a man." Batman retorted.

"Funny guy." Joker muttered; Batman continued to remain impassive. "You know, I've always been sick at that gloom attitude of yours for years. It wouldn't kill ya to smile once and a while, bats. Then again, it might. You never know."

"You're as deluded as always." Batman said disappointedly; Joker sneered. "All these plans and schemes – they're all just cover-ups for the real reason you keep coming back."

"What are you talking about?" Joker growled monstrously.

"It's a pipe dream, Joker." Batman proclaimed. "You were never my equal."

Whatever the Caped Crusader was talking about seemed to leave its mark on the deranged harlequin. The titan-enhanced clown rampaged across the arena, swinging his claws wildly for the Dark Knight. Batman had gained an upper hand over his old enemy by blinding him with anger. Now all that remained was the finishing blow. The Dark Knight ducked and dodged around the Joker's swipes, never revealing that he was attempting to back the clown into the exposed hole in the floor. When the clown prince's back was facing the opening, Batman quickly reached into his utility belt for the triple grappling line for the bat-claw. But in that one moment of distraction, Joker managed to snare his claws around both of the Caped Crusader's shoulders and raised him off the ground. The Dark Knight was still holding the grappling hook, but couldn't gain a proper angle from this height. The Clown Prince of Crime brought himself closer to his arch-enemy – his smile once again stretched against his disfigured features.

"Go on, laugh for me, Batman." Joker whispered dangerously. But when the Dark Knight remained mute, the Titan-enhanced clown pushed his enemy into the electric fence for a brief jolt. Batman tried to resist the pain and refused to show relief when the Joker pulled him back – he wasn't happy. "Laugh for me, damn you! I want to hear it before you die! Laugh!"

"Never." Batman said in a final tone.

Without warning, the Dark Knight lifted his foot and smacked against the Joker's jaw. The Clown Prince of Crime staggered backwards in surprise, unconsciously releasing his grip over his enemy. The Batman wasted no time shooting the triple grapple around the Joker's ankles. The Titan-enhanced harlequin only had a chance to look down out of curiosity before the Dark Knight pulled back with all his strength. With his legs pulled out from under him, the Joker fell backwards into the opening and crashed landed through the cluster of generators. Listening to the crazed twitched and electrical snaps taking place, Batman realized that it wouldn't be long before Joker came back for more – weakened, but still able. As a final precautionary step, the Dark Knight used the last remains of his explosive gel and applied it to his right gloves just moments before the Joker began to claw back to the surface.

"I can take it." Joker stated certainly, dragging himself back to full height. "I can take anything you throw at me, bats. No matter what you do, I'll always keep coming back!"

"And I'll always be there to stop you." Batman said certainly. "I will never let you win."

Snarling like the crazed animal he was, the Clown Prince of Crime charged for one last desperate attempt to succeed over his dreaded enemy. But the Caped Crusader proved himself victorious in the end as he managed to slip through the Joker's claws and pressed his gelled glove into the madman's jaw. The sudden friction between them ignited the gel secreted on the Batman's glove and produced a minimal explosion that shot the duo in opposite directions. The Dark Knight flailed against the electrified fence once again, landing precariously on his right arm. The deafening crack ringing in his ears signaled the shattering of his bones. At the same time, the Titan-powered Joker skidded across the arena, splitting most of the wood, and coming to a halt at the base of Gordon's chair. The police commissioner himself looked down over the defeated form of the Joker and shifted his attention to the hero of the night, standing strong and victorious.

* * *

"Dad! Thank god, I was so worried."

"I'm fine, Barbara."

Little to over a half hour later, Commissioner Gordon was safely out of the Penitentiary overlooking the police raid. Thanks to Batman's efforts in defeating the Joker, all the escaped criminals had willing surrendered in fear of the Dark Knight's wrath. All routines connecting Arkham to the mainland had been opened and the S.W.A.T. teams have successfully infiltrated the asylum grounds. Gordon stepped back as three armed officers were directing a group of Blackgate prisoners back to their designated cells and two S.W.A.T. members strapped a straightjacket over one of the crazies.

"The GCPD finally has full control over the asylum." Gordon informed his daughter over the radio. "The doctors are treating the injured, but it'll take some time. All super criminals are back in custody – quite a mess in there. And the venom-enhanced inmates are returning to normal, but the process can be quite painful for some."

"Dad, how are you feeling?" Barbara asked worried.

"I'll survive." Gordon answer, looking up as the Batman approached. "See you tonight, Barbara." He disconnected the signal, facing the Dark Knight. "Shame about what happened to your car. Can I give you a ride?"

"Thanks, Jim." Batman nodded respectfully. "But I've got my own ride."

"Uh…Commissioner, sir." The duo looked over to find one of the medical staff standing next to them. "We just got word about the Joker's condition, sir."

"What happened?" Gordon questioned. "Is he not turning back to normal?"

"The Titan process was reverse successfully." The orderly informed with a regretful tone. "But the explosion from earlier attacked the brainstem and disconnected quite a few cranial nerves in addition to shattering the jaw structure."

"What does it mean?" Gordon asked confused; Batman looked down mournfully.

"After all these years…" The orderly said softly. "The joker's finally dead."

* * *

The Batman, now under the persona of Bruce Wayne, stared pitifully at the newest addition to the Bat Cave. It had been nearly an hour since the reports of the Joker's death started to appear – Jack Ryder was naturally the first one to make it. But while the city of Gothem celebrated the Batman for ending the Clown Prince's reign of terror, Bruce Wayne decided not to join the festivities. He always knew that the Joker would pay for his crimes one day, but he never would have imagined it would be by his own hands. The Batman had broken his only rule. Even now, Bruce looked through the case that displayed the mannequin garbed in his own costume – still ripped and frayed. The rich philanthropist was so distracted by his own thoughts that he never noticed the young man in black and blue unitard silently take his place at the Dark Knight's side. Nightwing was a long way from his hometown of Bludhaven, but there was little doubt that he would have shown up sooner or later. The former Boy Wonder joined his former mentor in his stupor, taking notice of the damages it had received in Arkham.

"I heard about what happened." Nightwing said after two minutes of silence. "About the Joker."

"I'm not surprised." Bruce said monotonously.

"It was a freak accident, Bruce." Nightwing said sympathetically. "You shouldn't blame yourself."

"I don't." Bruce responded swiftly; Nightwing turned wide-eyed at his former partner. "For years, I've always imagined what would happen if I had looked the other way and ended him right there. I came close to finishing him so many times, but I always took the high road because I knew that if I killed him, the Joker would have the last laugh."

"But…you didn't mean to." Nightwing said hopefully.

"Somewhere deep down, I did." Bruce proclaimed seriously. "And you know what: I don't regret it." Now the former Boy Wonder had to do a double take, not being able to comprehend the Dark Knight's words. "After everything he's done – crippling Barbara, killing Jason – I'm actually happy to see him die."

"Bruce, you can't mean that." Nightwing said convinced.

"I do mean it, Dick!" Bruce snapped, using his former sidekick's real name. "After all I've done to distance myself from the criminals I face, it turns out there's no difference between me and them. I killed the Joker – his blood is on my hands…and I'd do it all over again." He eyes settled on the Batman costume once again. "That's why I can't continue."

"What do you mean?" Nightwing asked, having a vague idea.

"I can no longer be the Batman." Bruce replied solemnly; Nightwing's fears were confirmed. "I don't regret killing the Joker for all the things he's done over the years, but I can't take the risk of losing control with someone else. If I keep going with the thoughts of Joker's death in my head, it won't be long before I lose myself completely. I've taken the first step down a road that I will never be able to come back from."

"So you're just gonna quit?" Nightwing shouted outrageously. "After everything we've been through, you're just gonna give up after one accident! This isn't the first time someone has died because of a mistake! Jason for instance!"

"Yes, but I've never deliberately killed them." Bruce said calmly. "I'm sorry, Dick. I made the choice and Joker's dead because of it – looks like he finally wins."

"But you can't give up." Nightwing continued; his moral was quickly dropping. "Heroes like Green Lantern, the Flash, even Superman – they all come and go. But the world will always need Batman."

"You're right." Bruce agreed; a sense of hope started to rise in Nightwing. "The world will always need a Batman, but it doesn't need Bruce Wayne." He placed a sympathetic hand on his former ward's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Dick."

The tone in his voice meant that Bruce had made his final decision. Dick Grayson stared at the floor of the Bat Cave, refusing to meet his former mentor's eye. Though they had their differences in the past, Dick had always viewed Bruce Wayne not only as his teacher and idol, but also as a father figure – someone he could always look up to. To see him surrender the cowl so easily was unbelievable, like a nightmare that he couldn't wake up from. Bruce patted his adoptive son gently before walking past him towards the stairway. Along the way, he took one last look at all the mementoes he had collected from his past adventures: the sword of Deathstroke, Two-Face's giant coin, the puppet Scarface, the giant animatronic dinosaur, and even an oversized playing card courtesy of the Joker. The former Robin and Batgirl suits belonging to Jason Todd and Barbara Gordon were settled side-by-side with the newest addition: The Batman suit. Nightwing hadn't moved an inch from his spot even as Bruce reached the top step of the stairway.

"Never again." Bruce said finally.

The former Dark Knight flipped the switch, shrouding Nightwing and all existence of the Bat Cave into fathomless darkness.

* * *

**Again, this is my first time with the Batman, so I'd like your thoughts. Generally criticism and maybe some ideas for the story are welcomed, but flames are unacceptable.**

**Please, read and review.**


	2. Legacy: Despair

**Batman: Tomorrow Knight**

Batman Beyond © DC Comics

Season One: Legacy – Despair

**40 Years Later…**

"_Late last night, Wayne Enterprises successfully avoided yet another corporate buyout from executive businessman, Roman Sionis. This is Sionis' sixth attempt in collecting Gotham's premier organization, but will most certainly not be his last._"

"Like anybody cares."

Gotham City had changed exponentially in the passing decades, but none for the better. With Joker dead and the Batman nowhere in sight, crime, grime, and corruption had increased to nearly forty percent in the first ten years alone. Other heroes such as Nightwing and the Red Robin had taken the mantle of Gotham's protectors, but no one could ever replace the Dark Knight. His absence brought an end to what historians call "The Heroic Age". Though in recent years, law enforcement had become exceptionally more active due to the generous finances of Wayne Enterprises, leading to a visible decline in crime rate. But not everyone was willing to believe in Wayne's beneficial nature. Case in point of one troubled teenager.

Terrence "Terry" McGinnis, an athletic sixteen-year-old high school student with a mess of raven-black hair, was sitting in the outdoor cafeteria of Hamilton Hill High School. Why he was still sticking around was anyone's guess. Terry had taken his usual table under the vid-screen that displayed over the grounds across from a fifteen-year-old Asian girl with lengthy jet-black hair and equally dark irises. Dana Tan was one of the smartest girls in the sophomore class, yet others seemed believed she was a little screw loose when she started dating McGinnis six months ago. And giving his track record and thuggish personality, Dana was slightly starting to believe them. Emphasis on slightly. She wasn't willing to give up on Terry that easily – she knew he was a good guy deep down…somewhere.

"Ugh, Sionis." Dana grimaced, folding her arms on the table. "I've been hearing a lot of rumors about him around town. Word has it that he's been buying out companies left and right to finance his undercover business. You know; illegal stuff. My dad thinks he's been working street operations under the name Black Mask."

"Black Mask? Seriously?" Terry smirked jokingly. "I would think the commissioner would be more worried about the dregs in his own unit than chasing little ghost stories." The Asian girl frowned, which he never noticed with his attention focused on the vid-screen. "If Sionis wanted Wayne Enterprises so badly, why hasn't he bumped him off already? The guys old enough to die of a heart attack."

"Terry, don't say that!" Dana exclaimed passionately, slapping her hands on the table. "Mr. Wayne has done a lot of good things for Gotham over the years! Because of him, we have better health, better finances, and his donation to the Gotham City Police Department has helped my dad out a lot!"

"If the guy's such a saint, where's my pension?" Terry remarked

"You might wanna keep a job longer than two days."

Only one person could annoying and playful at the same time in McGinnis's head. The troubled teen picked up his lucky dirty-brown jacket to allow room for one of his oldest friends. The place was taken by Maxine "Max" Gibson, a sixteen-year-old African girl with impressive bosoms that first caught McGinnis's attention when they first met last year. Needless to say, it didn't work out as he had hoped – he was stuck in the best friend zone. The strangest thing about Max besides her overwhelming IQ and endless techno-babble was her short, hot-pink hair. She constantly claimed that it was genetics, but Terry was still investigating. The girl genius dropped her school bag on the table, reaching inside one of the side pockets to withdraw a loose sheet of paper.

"The results just came in." Max informed, handing the paper to Terry. "The Gotham Knights lost to the Metropolis Metros 42-6 and the Station Square Speedsters beat the New York Giants 34-20."

"Slag!" Terry cursed, crumpling the sheet in his fist.

"Why would you wanna know…?" Dana began; her eyes were wide with realization. "Terrence McGinnis! You're not gambling again, are you?"

"Maybe…" Terry said casually, tossing the paper wad over his shoulder.

"Oh, I thought you learned your lesson the last time." Dana moaned in an annoyed tone. "At least tell me it wasn't with the Jokerz again." The rough silence and shared gaze between Terry and Max gave all the answers. "Ugh, I can't believe you! Sometime, I wonder if I made the right choice!"

Terry heard this speech before. Every week, he would do something stupid or potentially illegal that bordered on a federal crime and she would use the same narrative. The troubled teen wasn't worried – he would say he made a mistake, take her out to dinner, and then the whole thing would be forgotten by tomorrow. But before Terry even had a chance to open his mouth, the frustrated female snatched the strap of her satchel and abruptly walked away without a word. This was going to be a game-changer.

"Mmm, you and Dana have more ups and downs than a rollercoaster." Max hummed, shaking her head playfully.

"Whatever." Terry said coolly.

While Max rolled her eyes skyward, McGinnis reached into the side pocket of his backpack, retrieving something that brought a defining frown on his friend's face. It had been nearly a year now since Terry had picked up on the habit of smoking; a habit Max been hoping to break for a while now. It started out with Terry regularly taking one whenever he was angry or depressed, but quickly snowballed until he was lighting one tobacco stick a day. Dana didn't know about his addiction, but that didn't mean she didn't suspect it. The troubled teen took in deep breath and exhaled a miniature cloud of smoke.

"I really wish you wouldn't do that, Terry." Max pleaded disapprovingly. "One of these days, all that smoke is gonna go straight to your brain."

"Why do you care so much?" Terry questioned defiantly, taking another puff.

"Because I'm your friend and I'm worried about you." Max stated earnestly. "I know you're upset and you have a right to be, but killing yourself isn't going to bring your mom back."

The uneasy silence that followed signaled the end of the conversation. Terry went back to staring at the vid-screen for anything remotely interested and Max, giving up n her speech, pulled out her computer for a little research. McGinnis shook his head – she always had to be on top of things. Terry was taking a deep breathe of tobacco until his peripheral vision managed to glimpse something leaning around the edge of the school building. When moving his head around for a better look, Terry was visibly frozen, unknowing dropping his cigarette on the ground. The teenaged troublemaker wasted no time throwing on his lucky jacket, easily forgetting his school bag.

"Listen, I have to go, Max." Terry said quickly, making a dash for the street. "I'll talk to ya later, all right!"

"Terry, where are you – Terry!" Max screamed with worry.

But McGinnis had already left the school ground by then – he didn't really plan on sticking around, anyway. The troubled teen ran across the street, narrowly dodging an incoming jeep, and ducked his way through a crowd of commuters at the bus stop. After running four city blocks, Terry looked back instinctively. Not one of his better ideas. Because he wasn't watching where he was going, Terry rammed into what felt like a brick wall, which wasn't too far off. Already sense the danger, he looked up and was "greeted" by a hulking bald man with powdery-white skin wearing a long, red-sleeved shirt and black suspenders. The next thing he knew, the bulking clown threw his arms around Terry in a crushing hold.

"Going somewhere, McGinnis." Bonk smiled devilishly.

"Let…go…" Terry grunted.

"Now, Terry, you weren't planning to run away, were you?"

"Oh, slag…" Terry whispered.

In the years that had followed the death of the infamous Clown Prince of Crime, several gangs had formed to personify in his image under the street name Jokerz. This particular gang was the one that gave Terry the most trouble. Besides the brawny Bonk, there was an obese man in a pink unitard and clown mask named Chucko, a kid who had fused his cellular structure with a spotted hyena named Woof, and a teenager with blond hair and various stitches decked out in Halloween-wear carrying his signature pumpkin named Ghoul. And then there was the weedy Bozo with his emerald-green hair and white face paint that was hardly worth mentioning. The only ones that Terry was relatively less resentful to were the Dee-Dee twins. McGinnis had known them as childhood friends Delia and Deidre until they reached high school and joined the Jokerz during freshman year. The Dee-Dee's were identical red-headed twins with pale-white face paint and wearing matching-white hats, extremely tight tube tops, and ever tighter girls cart wheeled – which, in Terry's opinion, was kinda hot – and settled on either side of the restrained teen.

"It's not nice to run away, right, Dee-Dee?" Delia said teasingly. **(To avoid confusion, I will refer to them by their real names)**

"Not nice at all, Dee-Dee." Deidre repeated, playing with a loose strand of Terry's hair. "C'mon, McGinnis, I thought you liked playing with us."

"We all grew up." Terry glared, forcing his follicles out of the girl's fingers. "Some worse than others."

"That was mean, wasn't it, Dee-Dee?" Delia said with a playful pout.

"Very sad, Dee-Dee." Deidre replied, rubbing her eyes as if she were crying.

"Aw, that wasn't very nice, McGinnis."

"And I was worried you weren't going to show, Terminal." Terry remarked sarcastically.

The group leader appeared from the shadows of the back alley, trying to make dramatic impression. Terminal was a formerly a successful senior at Hamilton Hill High School until he ran away and joined the Jokerz for the hell of it. He was a tall and lean man with lengthy-black hair and white skin complete with fake stitches on his lips and a dirty straight jacket. He looked like the cross between a shaggy-haired zombie and an escaped mental patient. Terminal stepped threatening past his henchmen and shoved the Dee-Dee twins away before coming face-to-face with his prey.

"You ever heard of a little thing called personal space?" Terry said with a steely glare.

"You would make a great Joker, McGinnis." Terminal said in a sophisticated manner, grabbing the teen by his chin. "You're always trying to make jokes, even though they're hardly funny."

"Guess that's something we've got in common, Carter." Terry said sharply; that earn him a fist to the abdomen.

"Don't ever call me that, McGinnis!" Terminal growled. He grabbed the high school sophomore by his hair and forced him to look directly in his face. "We heard the latest score, McGinnis, and you lost big time. So now you need to pay up."

"I don't have the money, per se." Terry excused pathetically.

"Then we're not responsible for our actions…per se." Terminal grinned menacingly, snapping his finger for the gang's attention. "Boys! Show McGinnis what happens when you don't pay up."

The group chuckled joyously as Bonk dropped the teen to the ground – Terry was somewhat relieved that the Dee-Dee twins didn't look as eager. But considering the circumstances, it hardly seemed relevant. He might have a shot at the pathetic Bozo, but then there were five more experienced members. Not very good odds. But then, almost as if expected, a crimson-red car screeched to a halt on the side of the road directly next to them and the driver stepped out immediately. A Caucasian woman with silky-black hair tied into a ponytail and a sharp pair of eyes that seemed to spot even the smallest detail. The GCPD badge pinned to her cherry-red coat would normally be a beacon for most characters, but for Terry, it was a sign of trouble. The severe-looking policewoman slammed the car door with enough force that the vehicle shuddered slightly. Terminal sneered indignantly at the woman, but his focus was promptly set on the shock pistol strapped to her belt – Wayne Enterprises had insisted in a less violent approach.

"Is there a problem, kids?" The woman questioned rhetorically.

"Uh, nothing going here, right, Dee-Dee?" Delia asked nervously.

"Right you are, Dee-Dee." Deidre replied in a more confident tone.

"Then I guess you'll be moving along." The woman said sternly

"Whatever you say, officer." Terminal smirked, giving a mocking bow to the policewoman. The costumed gang leader snapped his finger and his flunkies walked away like dogs to their master. "Oh, and don't worry, McGinnis. There are other ways to settle a debt."

There was something in his tone that let Terry know he wasn't going to be let off easily. Then again, when you're dealing with Terminal, nothing ever is. The two watched as the manipulative gang leader vanished into the deepest shadows of the alleyway, which is amazing considering it 1:00 in the afternoon.

"Thanks for the save, Ellen." Terry said smugly, brushing the dirt off his lucky jacket.

"That's Detective Yin to you, McGinnis." Yin said severely, opening the passenger door of the car. "Get in."

"What, you gonna arrest me?" Terry blinked curiously.

"Don't tempt me, McGinnis." Yin said with a steely gaze. "Given you long streak, you lucky I managed to convince the judge to let you off with five months in juvenile hall rather than eight years in prison. Now get in."

Well, since she asked so nicely. Despite popular belief, Terry McGinnis was a smart kid and know that frustrated cop and fully loaded shock pistol equaled weeks of physical therapy. The disgruntled teenager seated himself in the passenger's seat, flinching slightly when she slammed the door, and waited for Yin to get back behind the wheel. Needless to say, the trip through the streets was relatively quiet and unnerving. But having been caught or rescued by Detective Yin on various occasions, Terry considered this the VIP treatment. While her main focus was directing her way through heavy traffic, Yin notice the cigarette box poking out of the teen's coat pocket out of the corner of her eye when shifting gears.

"Still haven't kicked the habit, I see." Yin said in a restricted manner; Terry didn't even trying to ponder her meaning. "Didn't your dad take away your credits so that you couldn't buy any more of those death sticks?"

"He had a…change of heart." Terry said slyly.

"In other words, you stole his wallet." Yin said disapprovingly. "Seriously, McGinnis, when is this going to stop? You're already in trouble for stealing, drinking, smoking, vandalism, and your latest escapade: gambling with street thugs. If someone had told me you were doing these kinda things a year ago, I wouldn't have believed them."

"People change." Terry excused with a scowl.

"Not this radically." Yin stated. "Listen, McGinnis, you're setting yourself up for a big fall. You shouldn't throw you life away like this."

"What do you care?" Terry glared spitefully. "You're not my mother."

"That's what this is all about, isn't it?" Yin said suspiciously. "You're right; I'm not your mother. But she and I were best friends since high school and I'm sure as hell that she wouldn't approve of what you've been doing."

"Where are you taking me, anyway?" Terry asked, quickly changing the subject.

"I'm taking you to your father." Yin replied. "He was called for a business meeting at Sionis Industries earlier today and I think it would be best if he handled the situation directly. When we get there, try not to break anything. Your father's in enough trouble as it is."

She had no idea how right she was.

* * *

The central headquarters of Sionis Industries stood tall over the corporate world and the city of Gotham, but was still dwarfed by the shadow of Wayne Enterprises. For ten years, Sionis Industries had worked its way to the top, but was always bested by the old man. Things were going to be different soon enough – Roman was certain of it. Roman Sionis' penthouse office granted a spectacular view of the city that stretched as far as the Gotham Bay, but was not without his own personal touches. The sun glares through the skylight above, reflecting against the various artifacts and rare antiquities that decorated his personal space. But by far the greatest piece of his collection was the wall of assorted masks from different cultures – a museum of faces that could offer to mask his own. Roman found himself admiring a particularly fine mask carved from pure-black oak shaped into the impression of a human skull, complete with wooden teeth. Just then, Sionis' secretary walked through the double doors, looking bored and impassive as usual.

"Sir, Warren McGinnis is here to see you." Ms. Li said in a drawling tone.

"Then don't just stand there, you idiot!" Sionis barked rudely. "Bring him in!"

Ms. Li was unaffected by Sionis' outburst – she was all too familiar with it – and simply gestured the man behind her to follow into the office. District Attorney Warren McGinnis was used to handling high profile cases, but dealing with a corporate giant like Roman Sionis was on a completely different level. The flustered attorney repositioned his glasses and straightened his tie to make himself look presentable before marched into what some would consider the lion's den. By the time McGinnis walked in, Ms. Li had already taken her place at her boss's side with a pen and clipboard ready. The corporate capitalist himself was strapping middle-aged man with dark, slicked-back hair and a smirk that boasted confidence. He had no trouble flaunting his fortune as apparent by his snow-white business suit with matching-white shoes, a cherry-red tie, golden cufflinks, and a few gemstone rings on his fingers. Sionis folded his hands together and leaned back into his leather chair, acting like he was enjoying a particularly enjoyable program.

"Ah, Warren McGinnis – Gotham's white knight." Sionis said amusingly. "How've you been, McGinnis? Convicting pedophiles and drug dealers must be very stressful down at the MCU."

"Hilarious, Sionis." Warren said stoically. "I'm sure rating your standup comedy isn't the reason you call me personally."

"I like you, McGinnis – straight and to the point." Sionis said casually, leaning forward with his elbows resting on the oak-wood desk. "I'm very…disconcerted about the particular rumors flying around about you, McGinnis. From what I understand, you seem to have the judge convinced that you have evidence against me that'll shut my company down."

"I've been doing my research very thoroughly, Mr. Sionis." Warren said politely, despite the unnerving situation. "Shipping unmarked containers of illegal weaponry, selling neuron-enhancing drugs, blackmailing political powers. And I don't think I need to go on about your surveillance network monitoring particular people from Bellwood to Sub Diego."

"Wow, when you do your homework, you get it done right." Sionis chuckled amusingly. "Listen, McGinnis, I'm a very reasonable guy, so I have an offer for you."

"Offer?" Warren frowned.

"In compliance for your silence in this matter," Ms. Li said automatically. "We are will to donate a large sum to you and your district. We are also will to part with some benefits for your own personal use."

"A bribe." Warren simplified. "You think that paying me off is going to me from revealing your secret to the judge?"

"Every man as their price, McGinnis." Sionis said certainly. "Just name yours and consider this matter closed."

"Seeing you behind bars will be satisfying enough." Warren glowered. "Unlike most of the dogs that roll over for you, I can't be easily persuaded. You going to get what's coming to you soon enough."

"Listen here, you little…!" Sionis exclaimed furiously, slamming his fist on the desk surface.

"Are we interrupting something?"

You couldn't ask for better timing. Detective Yin barged into the penthouse house, dragging Terry inside by his elbow. On the bright side: he wasn't in handcuffs this time. One glimpse at the GCPD badge on her jacket and Sionis quelled his frustration, leaning back into his chair with a particularly nasty expression. Warren wasn't sure whether to in relief that Yin was here or feel concerned that she was towing his only son around Gotham.

"No, not at all, Detective." Warren waved, grateful for the subject change. "Is there a problem?"

"I know you're busy, but I thought this required your direct attention." Yin stated formally, pulling the McGinnis teen into view. "I found your son in Downtown Gotham in trouble with the Jokerz again. I think he was gambling."

"I can handle punks like Terminal." Terry said defiantly, pulling his arm free. "I don't need you to baby-sit me."

"I'm sure you're more than capable, son." Sionis said with a prideful smirk. He pushed himself out of his chair and walked around the desk, placing a comforting hand on the teen's shoulder; Warren glared. "I'm all for taking risks, but you have to know your strengths and weaknesses. Dealing with common street thugs like the Jokerz is no laughing matter. You need to start small before you work your way up the ladder."

"I'll keep that in mind." Terry muttered defensively, suddenly becoming interested in the far wall. "Wow, you really have a thing for masks."

"More of an interest." Sionis chuckled, walking over to his fondest collection. "My parents were wealth aristocrats, but were more concerned about their social status rather than their own son. They hated a lot of people, especially Wayne, but they always tried to play off as charitable to make themselves look batter – the hypocrites." He took the black-skull mask off the wall, staring into the hollow sockets. "They always wore masks in public to hide what they really are: self-absorbed bastards."

"Wow, most people just collect stamps." Terry commented.

"I think that will be all for today." Warren announced loudly. "I look forward to seeing you next week, Mr. Sionis."

The tone he said it in wasn't very inviting. Sionis looked up from his most treasured possession, partially staring as the detective escorted them out of the office. He snorted with intense loathing as Detective Yin slammed the door behind them – she wasn't a very gentle woman – replacing the black mask on the wall. Ms. Li was still scribbling animatedly while he boss took his seat, looking out into the Gotham Bay with minimal interest. McGinnis was becoming a problem that he needed to correct – his secretary seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"Shall I call the usual suspects, sir?" Ms. Li asked monotonously.

"No, that won't be necessary." Sionis said nonchalantly. His secretary should the slight bit of emotion with one brow raised, noting her superior's deviant smirk. "No, I have something special in mind."

* * *

If the drive with Yin was uncomfortable, the ride home with Terry's father was even worse. The troubled teen had already taken a seat on the living room couch with his hands folded together, waiting for his sentence. The wait itself was unnerving – Warren usually chewed out his son the first chance he got. But the District Attorney was silent as he paced back and forth across the room, occasionally readjusting his glasses before resuming his path. Terry preferred it when he was angry – the look of disappointment on his father's face was much worse.

"Terry…I don't know what to do with you." Warren finally spoke, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I've done everything I can to give you a good life: food, shelter, an education. But you continue to squander it away. Are you mad at me for something?"

"No." Terry answered pitifully. "I just thought I could make a little extra cash."

"And gambling with street hoodlums is your answer?" Warren said in a disapproving tone. "Terry, I worried that if you don't turn your life around, you'll end up in prison for the rest of your life."

The troubled teen promptly ignored his father, finding better interest in the picture on the side table. Terry's expression went soft and he reached out for the frame. It was a picture of him with his arms wrapped around his parent's shoulders, smiling happily without a care in the world. Mary McGinnis was a plain red-headed woman that wasn't particular beautiful, but she was very special once you got to know her. In the photo, her hands were resting tenderly on the bump forming in her stomach. This photo had been taken over a year ago…before…

"I know things haven't been easy since your mother died." Terry snapped out of his trance to find his father standing over him with a sympathetic expression. "But we have to do the best we can to make it work. I'm sure if she were here, she wouldn't have wanted you to throw away your life like this."

"Don't pretend you knew how she felt." Terry demanded coldly. "You were always so busy running for office that you never had time for her or this family. If you had been around, maybe mom would still be alive!"

"I loved your mother!" Warren exclaimed. "And I love you, too, Terry! You have to believe me!"

"Whatever." Terry scoffed, jumping off the sofa.

"Where are you going?" Warren questioned.

"Out." Terry answered sharply, grabbing his lucky jacket off the rack.

"Terry, I forbid you to…" Warren was cut off by the thunderous slam of the front door. "Oh, Terry."

The teenaged troublemaker was done listening to his fath – no, to District Attorney McGinnis. The old man never gave a damn about his wife or only son. Otherwise, he would have prevented Mary from dying. Terry stepped into the car, despite knowing that his father still had the keys. But that never stopped him before. After the first two months in Juvenile Hall, Terry had learned a thing or two about overriding security measures and hotwiring automobiles. And in no time at all, McGinnis had started the engines and backed out of the driveway, disappearing down the nightly road. Unknown to either members of the McGinnis family, a group of old friends had decided to pay the household a visit.

"All right, boys and girls." Terminal smiled darkly. "Let's put a smile on those faces.

* * *

**Please, read and review.**


	3. Legacy: Discovery

**Batman: Tomorrow Knight**

Batman Beyond © DC Comics

Season One: Legacy – Discovery

The East End is an undeveloped part of Gotham City that only existed in crime, poverty, prostitution, smuggling rings, and the occasional drug trade. It was the lowest, filthiest, most disgusting section in this already wasted metropolis. But above all, it was a historical landmark. Once marked as an upscale section now served as a reminder of the infamous 'Park Row Tragedy' – the day a common thug took the lives of Thomas and Martha Wayne. But that never bother Terry as history was his least favorite subject next to calculus, biology, and physics. Knowing that it wouldn't be long before Terminal and his goons came looking for him; Terry instantly started scrounging around for old friends. And by old friends, he meant people who owed him. McGinnis was skulking in the back allies with a ferrety-looking man, apparently in a heated discussion.

"What do you mean you don't have the money?" Terry shouted exasperatedly.

"Listen, cool down, McGinnis." The accomplice said earnestly with his hands raised in defense. "Things haven't been going so good, ya know. More cops patrolling the streets and warehouses – it getting harder to sell any of the merchandise. We tried doing them by mail order, but that Yin chick busted down on us before we even had the chance to deliver. I barely got out with my skin."

"I don't care about your skin." Terry leered, grabbing the man by his collar. "Do you realize what the Jokers will do if they don't get their – they're going to kill me!"

"But I don't have any!" The dealer whimpered.

"Don't lie to me, Drake!" Terry growled angrily. The drug dealer could feel his blood run cold as he stared into the teens narrowed eyes – this kind of intimidation could only be compared to one man. "I know you've still got your thirty percent from those jobs we did two years ago. And as I recall it, you owe me for bailing your ass out of trouble with the police when you were caught dealing those Venom steroids."

"I-I-I had the money." Drake the Drug Dealer stammered. "But the Great Whites were shaking me down – I had to give them everything I had to get them off my back. Sorry, man."

Oh, he didn't understand the meaning of the word. Not yet. Though drake was six inches taller and twice Terry's age, he was scrawny and malnourished in comparison to the athletically fit McGinnis boy. Terry could actually see the jugular veins pressing against the shallow skin. It wouldn't take much – just one solid punch to the throat and the lowly drug dealer would endure a quick and painless death. Drake could see the malicious intent in McGinnis's eyes. The troubled teen pulled back arm with his fingers closed into a fist…..But he couldn't do it. Despite being a disturbed, gambling, nicotine-addicted high school student, Terry McGinnis knew where he had to draw the line. No matter how bad things get – no matter the temptation – he could never bring himself to take another life. His mother taught him that.

"Just…keep your head low." Terry said with a depressing sigh, releasing his partner's collar. "Detective Yin is on a warpath around the East End and I don't want my only contact to be thrown behind bars before he can pay me back."

"Thank you, McGinnis." Drake panted gratefully, stumbling down the alley. "I'll pay you back one day, I promise."

"I'll hold you to that!" Terry replied and Drake was gone. Wiping the dirt off his lucky jacket, McGinnis started making his way back to the car. "Great. That guy was my last shot. Now where am I supposed to get the money?"

"Sounds like you're in a bit of a…financial bind."

Terry jumped a little bit to the left when the sound appeared directly to his right side. He saw a small group of about six people with bleach-white skin, but could already tell they weren't Jokerz. An obvious fact since all of them was wearing fancy business suits complete with matching ties and shaved their heads completely bald. The leader of the small crew stretched his already gruesome grin from cheek to cheek, showing a mouth of razor-edge teeth. The Great Whites were another street gang that worshipped a supervillain, which, in this case, the Warren White – the Great White Shark. Terry took stepped a few paces away from the mutilated thugs, but they had already started circling the teen like a pact of sharks circling their prey.

"Terrific." Terry scowled. "As if this day couldn't get any worse."

"We're not looking trouble, kid." The gang leader said cynically, stepping up to the teen. "We' just concerned citizens looking out for the little guy." He draped his arm over McGinnis's shoulder in a friendly gesture; Terry could feel his skin crawl. "I hear you're having a little money trouble. And being the nice guys that we are, we're offering you the chance to get those clowns off your back."

"What's the catch?" Terry retorted.

"Ah, it's nothing to worry about." The leader said casually. "I'm sure you'll find a way to pay us back. With a forty percent interest and tax, of course."

"I get it now." Terry glared, throwing off the Shark's hand. "You're nothing more than a bunch of loan sharks. You know, it's kinda funny when you think about it considering your faces."

"Kid, you don't want us as enemies." The leader proclaimed.

"I definitely don't want you as friends." Terry responded.

And before he knew it, McGinnis smashed his fist into the gang leader's nose, throwing him to the pavement. While the stooges were distracted by the leader's display of pain, Terry took this chance to slip through the circle and sprinted down the street. The troubled teen could hear the lead Shark shouting himself hoarse in the distance. McGinnis barely ducked his head in time when a stray bullet flew over his right ear and ricocheted against the street lamps. He should have known that they would be armed. Ammunition formed a trail that nipped at his heels with the Great Whites following close behind. Acting on his instincts, Terry quickly turned and took shelter down a random alleyway. Had he paid attention, he would have noticed the crook sign hanging from the wall corner.

_**Crime Alley**_

The lane was definitely filthier than the rest of the East End, which was really saying something. But cleanliness was the least of Terry's concerns at the moment. The teen took a chance to look back at his pursuers, which really cost him as he was too distracted to notice the garbage pile in his path until he tripped over. Terry flopped on the concrete – his sides hurting from the contact – but was quickly dragged up to his feet by white-skinned hands wrapped around his underarms. You had to admit that they were fast runners for guys that looked like pale lawyers. Though he struggled to break loose, the Sharks maintained their hold and forced the high school student to face their leader. The head Shark in question was refilling his pistol before pressing the barrel against Terry's temple.

"You're a very bad business man, kid." The leader said smugly. "Now, I might be willing to turn the other cheek…if you pay seventy percent interest."

"I have an offer for you." Terry seethed. "You can kiss my…"

"Language, kid." The leader interjected; the pistol clicked. "Maybe this'll teach ya not to mess with the Great Whites."

"Great Whites?" The head Shark raised a nonexistent brow; the tone didn't belong to any of them. "More like the little minnows."

A soft sort of chuckle followed the comment, easily allowing the gang members to trace back to the entryway of the alley. A grey-haired old man with an advanced number of years stood at the sidewalk in casual clothing, using a walking cane to support himself. Despite signaling his presence to a group of young and life-threatening thugs, the elderly man didn't seem all too worried. In fact, he was smiling as if he was watching a mildly entertaining program. Terry though he was senile – it certainly seemed that way as the old man hobbled into the alley until he was staring directly into the leader's face.

"Can I help you, old timer?" The head Shark questioned awkwardly.

"I was just taking a walk, checking out the old neighborhood." The old man answered in a way that would make one think they were having a friendly discussion about the weather. "I was about to head home when I noticed you boy assaulting this fine young gentleman." He pointed his cane to Terry. "So if you would be so kind as to let him go, I'll be on my way."

"Uh-uh, forget it, geezer." The leader refused, gently pushing the elder back. "This kid needs to be taught a lesson and class is in session."

"I would love to see your teaching license." The elder smirked.

"Listen, old man." The leader said impatiently. "You better stay out of this before…"

We will never find out what would happen as the white-skinned Shark doubled over in pain from a wooden cane stabbing him in the stomach. Growling like the beast he resembled, the head Shark lifted his gun for the old man's face, only to have it swatted out of the way before he had a chance to pull the trigger. The leader remained momentarily stunned by the elder's unnatural swiftness, never noticing the cane swiping against his neck until he was knocked unconscious. The Great Whites were stupefied. Their leader was defeated in under a minute by a guy that looked like he could drop dead at any moment. Not that Terry was complaining. With the henchmen distracted, their grip loosened enough that he was able to slip out of his jacket slid behind the thug undetected. When the goons came to their senses, they finally realized that the teenaged punk was missing. Though it really didn't matter when McGinnis grabbed the back of their heads and smacked them against one another's skulls, effectively knocking them out.

"Thank god these guys are so thickheaded." Terry said jokingly, taking back his lucky jacket.

"What are you waiting for?" One of the three remaining goons yelled. "Slag 'em!"

The Shark quickly loaded their pistols and fired at both McGinnis and the old man. While Terry effortlessly dodged the flying rounds, kicking off the wall with an expert flip, his worry rested with the elderly man's safety. Apparently, he should have been more worried about the gang members. The old man used his can to flip a trashcan lid off the street and grabbed the handle, using it as a shield to deflect the bullets. And while the goons were forced to reload their firearms, the unbelievably skilled elder tossed the metal lid against the far end wall. The lid rebounded off the wall and knocked against one of the Shark's face, which in turn caused the lid to recoil into the back of another Shark's head. With the rest of his gang all beaten into submission, the last gang member weighed his opinions and chose the only sensible solution: run like hell. However, he didn't get very far when he turned and ran into Terry's hanging fist. The last Shark moaned painfully before falling back into the pile of garbage bags below.

"Forgive me for sounding cliché." Terry grinned. "But it's time to take out the trash."

"That…was terrible." The elder commented, hobbling up to the taller teenager. "But I must admit, you are quite the natural when it comes to dealing with these lowlifes."

"Born and raised in Gotham." Terry shrugged. "It's kinda second nature. You know, for an old guy, you really know how to kick a…" He hesitated under the elder's steely gaze; he better choose his words carefully. "Er, you can kick butt."

"Uh-huh." The old man said dryly. "Listen, it's getting late and I have a long walk home." He turned away from the younger man, walking down the sidewalk with his cane clattering against the pavement. "If I'm lucky, I might just make it back before morning. See ya around, kid."

Terry stood silently, allowing his mind to process everything that just happened. When you're living in Gotham City, you are expected to fend for yourself – no friends, no police. Any normal resident would have seen the fight and walked away like nothing was happening. But this guy was different. He saw McGinnis in distress and kicked some major ass to defend him. The most unusual part was that he never asked for anything in return. The old man had only made it a few feet before Terry did the only thing that seemed right to him.

"Need a ride?"

* * *

Driving down a busy highway after midnight with a complete stranger heading off to who knows where was not one of the smartest things Terry had done in this lifetime. But then again, it was the least he could do for him. And now that he thought about it, this was the first car ride in a long time where he wasn't being chewed out. A plus side, I suppose. The elderly man shad remained silent for a majority of the drive, occasionally telling him directions. It wasn't until they got off the exit to Gotham Heights – a high profile area – that any progress was made between them.

"So, you're Warren's son." The elder said in a gravely tone. "The kid that's always getting into trouble every week?"

"Wait? How'd you know that?" Terry asked flabbergasted. He momentarily looked away from the road, earning a sharp thwack from the old man's cane. "Ow! What's that thing made of?"

"You're father talks about you a lot, has a picture right on his desk." The elder replied, ignoring the second comment. "He says you are a bright, talented young man, but has no self-respect or ambition. Such a waste on someone with your skills. Take a left here."

"Let me guess, you're one of dad's flunkies?" Terry grimaced, turning the wheel in the direction

"Not exactly." The elder proclaimed. "He and I have been working together against Roman Sionis's. With all the evidence we've found, Sionis won't be able to buy himself out of this one." He gazed forwards with a passive expression. "We're here."

Having reached their destination, Terry slowly brought the car to a stop in front of a pair of wrought iron gates. The elder reached into his pocket and retrieved a miniature remote, which pulled the gates inward with an ominous creek. Terry was already impressed as they drove through the archway, but what he saw beyond that had officially overwhelmed him. Or was it whelmed? Anyway, the long winding ahead of them led up to an impressive estate, which looked more like the Celtic castles in ancient history than a mansion. The McGinnis boy slowly curbed the vehicles at the mansion entrance, giving him a good view of the address displayed on the side in golden letters.

"1007 Mountain Drive." Terry said aloud; the slow realization was starting to sink in. "Wait a minute. This is Wayne Manor." He looked back at the old man, rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. "You…your Bruce Wayne."

"Took you long enough." Bruce said smugly, cautiously stepping out of the car. "Would you mind coming in for a minute? There are some documents your father left behind last time he was here. I was hoping you could drop them off."

"Uh…sure." Terry said slowly; the shock still hadn't worn off.

The elderly billionaire now known as Bruce Wayne waited at the top of the manor steps until Terry had finished locking up the car – he wasn't going to risk getting robbed even out here. Wayne had retrieved his keys and unlocked the manor doors, but nothing prepared Terry for what came next. From the moments the oak-wood door flew open, a black blur flew across the air and crashed against his chest, throwing him off the steps and onto the blacktop. Besides the throbbing pain in the back of his head, Terry could still feel a large pressure on his chest. You could only imagine the panic racing through his head when he was greeted with pointed, pearly-white teeth that could rip the marrow from his bones. Terry found himself face-to-muzzle with the largest Great Dane he had ever laid eyes on with its fur a midnight-black and outfitted with a spiked collar. It seemed suiting.

"I see you've met Ace." Wayne said humorously. "I think he likes you."

"Um...hello, Ace." Terry said nervously; it was hard not to pee his pants at that moment. "Um...do you mind…?"

"Ace, down." Wayne commanded. Ace the Great Dane lowered his ears and groaned, jumping off the teen's chest and taking his place at his master's side, leaning happily into his hand. "Sorry about that. Ace can be very protective."

"I've noticed." Terry murmured.

"Come inside." Wayne offered. "It shouldn't take long."

The elderly billionaire hobbled inside his massive estate with Ace loyally stepping into place at his side, often sending what Terry interpreted as a dirty look whenever he looked back. This dog was scary-smart. Bruce Wayne led him to the living room, which was much bigger than he would have imagined – not that he had been to many billionaire mansions. The room was the size of a basketball court with four flights of stairs heading off to different directions and six hallways stretching to the rest of the mansion. The room was complete with fine-oak furniture and a ninety inch vid-screen; Terry thought they were only a myth. But despite the grandeur the place presented, McGinnis could easily notice the thin layer of dust resting on the surface. It must have been years since he had guests that stayed longer than an hour. Kind of a lonely existence in Terry's opinion.

"You won't mind staying here for a moment?" Wayne asked. "I just need to go to my office and get the files."

"Uh, sure thing." Terry shrugged in bemusement.

Wayne seemed a bit uncertain, but walked off down the hallway to the farthest left with Ace at his heels, leaving Terry alone in the empty household. The McGinnis boy always wondered how the rich and famous lived, thinking they had the best of everything the world had to offer. But looking at Wayne Manor – an empty house with only one man and his faithful pet – it was very depressing. Then again, Wayne had been quite the playboy back in his youth and it was only natural that it would all fade away in time. Terry quickly shrugged the thought away – it wasn't his business to question Wayne's lifestyle. It had only been close to three minutes and McGinnis was starting to feel twitch being all alone in an empty room. He reached into his pocket to retrieve his stash of smokes, quickly place one in his mouth. He had only started sparking his lighter when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. An aged grandfather clock on the far end of the room that looked like it hadn't been operational in years. While the clock itself wasn't unusual, the shriek bat behind the clock face was.

"What the?" Terry said questionably. He pocketed the cigarette and approached the grandfather clock with caution, watching the bat tap fruitlessly against the glass. "How'd you get behind there?"

Like he would have expected an answer. Though against his better judgment, Terry's curiosity forced the bird to open the glass case separating the two. He braced himself for the bat to instantly fly out and possibly bite him, but received another surprise when he found that the winged rodent was still trapped…behind the clock itself. Now that was strange. McGinnis blinked in a dumbfounded manner as he slowly held his hand out to touch the face; the bat stopped flapping and leaned its head sideways in curiosity. Both facts seemed impossible. Terry slowly brushed his hand against the surface, unknowingly causing the clock hands to move at a specified time: 10:47. A small ring echoed in the manor, the bat disappeared into the darkness, and the grandfather clock slid sideways against the wall. In its place, Terry discovered a secret stairway that looked to travel below the surface of the mansion.

"Whoa, Scooby-Doo moment." Terry commented.

The bat from earlier was still flapping in midair, almost as if it was expecting him. Now that he had a better look, Terry noticed that the winged rodent was missing a chunk of its right ear. Why he bothered to notice at all was anyone's guess. The bat tilted its head for a short moment before flying off down into the cavern.

"Why does this stuff always seem to happen to me?" Terry muttered disdainfully. The troubled teenager stumbled downwards after the bat, adding this to the list of stupid things he's done in one night. But the farther he moved ahead, the darker the cavern became. "Man, why am I doing down here? The least I should have done was brought a light."

"Light on!" A feminine, computerized voice exclaimed.

In one moment, a brilliant flash of light blinded the poor McGinnis boy without warning. You couldn't say he didn't deserve this. It took several moments for his vision to return and by this time, Terry had already had enough surprises for one night.

"Ok, I am officially whelmed." Terry said in amazement.

Though he had never seen it before, he already knew where he was. The legendary fortress of the Dark Knight – the elusive Batcave. McGinnis finished the last few flights of stairs as slowly as possible, trying to take in everything he was seeing. He was so amazed that he didn't even bother to brush his new bat friend off his shoulder. Everything was just as Bruce had left in forty years ago following the demise of the Joker: the sword of Deathstroke, the animatronic dinosaur, Two-Face's giant penny – it was all here. The bat computer stood impressively against the farthest wall, despite the years of dust that had accumulated, and the Bat Wing hanged like a trophy from the ceiling. And on the opposite end of the cave, the Batmobile remained in place of the preset track, halfheartedly covered by a thin tarp.

"This…this is amazing." Terry murmured softly. "I wonder if Wayne knows this place exists."

The tiny bat that had partnered itself with Terry released a sudden shriek, causing the boy to nearly jump out of his skin. The flying creature stretched it wings and took flight, flapping in the direction of the back wall closest to the stairway. The winged mammal landed on the top of a hidden display, discovering the crown jewel of the Batcave. An entire wall of display cases – each one holding a mannequin wearing one of the costumes from each member of the "Bat Family". Though Terry was no expert in history, he had paid particular attention to lectures involving the time of superheroes, often called the "Heroic Age". Terry had loved and admired everything about superhero and could easily name each costume by heart.

From right to left, there was the leather bodysuit of the former cat burglar: Catwoman. Next the athletic clothing once belonging to a vigilante hero known as Onyx. Then came Flamebird, the temporary sidekick of Nightwing, whose outfit stood beside it partner. The armor of Azrael followed after, though it was still unclear whether he was a hero at times or not. Then there was the enigmatic Batwoman – her history was the most uncertain. The Huntress's revealing outfit was also granted a place of honor in the Batcave. And finishing off the list of lesser famed heroes was the Red Robin, once known as the 3rd Robin. When Terry came to the famed sidekicks of Batgirl and the 2nd Robin, it made him realize that they were much younger than history described them – they were probably younger than him. And at the farthest end of the row, the greatest treasure in Gotham City was displayed beyond the glass, despite ripped and torn in comparison to it companions.

"Batman…" Terry whispered, slowly raising a hand to the glass.

"Get away from that." Terry gasped and turned; Bruce had reached the bottom step with Ace at his heels. "Some things are better left alone."

"Wait a minute." Terry said softly in revelation; Wayne stepped up to the young man. "You're him. You're Batman."

"_Was _Batman." Wayne replied, stressing the word. "I left that life behind a long time ago."

"I don't get it." Terry shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. "They said Batman had died a long time ago."

"That was a cover story I had Nightwing tell after I retired." Wayne explained indifferently.

"Retired?" Terry yelled shockingly. "But why? Ever since you left, Gotham's gotten worse! Because of you, punks like the Jokerz and the Great Whites can push anyone around! And what I don't get is why you just decided to quit!"

"It's like I said." Wayne said in a distant voice, gazing sadly at the shredder remains of the Batsuit. "Some things are better left alone."

* * *

Terry's mind was still reeling during the long drive back home. After Wayne had handed over the documents meant for Warren McGinnis, the retired superhero had ordered to leave the premises. And when Terry refused to do so, he threatened to sick Ace on him – crude, but effective. No matter how hard he tried, Terry couldn't shake it from his mind. It was hard to believe that in the last two hours, he had met Bruce Wayne and (unknowingly) Batman. Terry had admired many heroes from Superman to the Green Lantern, but Batman always stood out to him. Having no powers of his own and standing against impossible odds, Batman always emerged victorious. He was the kind of person that proved you didn't need to be from another planet or have any special abilities to be a hero. Batman was a symbol of something Terry always wanted to be – something he could never be.

"Bruce Wayne is Batman." Terry repeated for the eighth time that evening. "And all this time, he's been doing it without anyone realizing it. But…why would he just quit? It doesn't make any sense." The McGinnis boy had just turned the corner to his block, only to be greeted with an unwelcomed sight. "Oh no."

Over twelve GCPD cars were parked outside of the McGinnis household with two ambulances and a fire truck to accompany them. The neighborhood had already cluttered around the site behind the warning tape, stretching themselves out for a better look at the scene. Fear boiling in his stomach, Terry kicked open the door and made a dash for his house, not caring if someone were to take the car. He roughly pushed past the crowd and ducked under the yellow tape, which caught the attention of a few police force members.

"Hey, kid, stay behind the line!" One officer commanded, stepping directly into Terry's path.

"Look, you don't understand!" Terry shouted frantically, trying with his best effort to push the guard aside

"I said behind the line!" The officer snapped heatedly; his hand was reaching toward his belt.

"It's all right – I'll take it from here." Saved by the bell. Or in this case, Detective Yin. The frustrated guard groaned indignantly before moving along to rally the other witnesses. "Terry, are you all right."

"I'm fine! What happened?" Terry questioned quickly.

"Jokerz." Yin answered simply. "They ransacked your house – tore the place apart. I think they were looking for you."

"Where's dad?" Terry asked seriously. Instead of responding, Yin dropped her gaze to the concrete with a glassy expression; that was much worse than any word she could come up with. "Dad…no!"

Detective Ellen Yin did nothing to stop him from running over and rampaging into the destroyed household. The rest of her police force followed in her lead, knowing that only denying it would make the situation worse. Yin tried to keep herself from tearing up as Terry's anguished cried punctured the atmosphere.

She failed miserably.

**

* * *

**

Please, please, please, read and review.


	4. Legacy: Vengence

**Batman: Tomorrow Knight**

Batman Beyond © DC Comics

Season One: Legacy – Vengeance

"_All of Gotham mourns today for the loss of Warren McGinnis, Gotham's White Knight._" Local news reporter, Kyle Ryder, said drearily, displaying a video of the funeral in the backdrop. "_While GCPD are still investigating the murder, Warren's orphaned son, Terry McGinnis strongly confirms that this was the work of the local streets gang known as the Jokerz, one of the many criminal gangs to idolize Gotham's former crime lords. Detective Ellen Yin of GCPD refused to comment._"

"I never liked the news." Detective Yin said, switching the vid-screen off.

It had been two days since Warren McGinnis's murder, but only four hours since the actual ceremony. It was surprised Terry how many people had come to give their last respects – Roman Sionis and Bruce Wayne had even attended. Meeting with Wayne shortly after discovering his identity as the Batman was both awkward and infuriating. He understood that Bruce had hung up the cape years ago and was way past his prime, but some part of Terry's mind felt some odd satisfaction for blaming him. If Wayne had never given up, maybe his father would still be alive. The young McGinnis boy pushed the thought from his mind as Yin handed him a cup of fresh coffee. During his short few weeks of drinking, Terry had gained immunity to the bitter taste.

"Thanks." Terry said lowly.

"So, you feel any better?" Yin asked with genuine concern; Terry gave her an exaggerated expression. "Right – dumb question."

"It's all right – I know you're just trying to help." Terry sighed, resting his chin into his hands with his eyes lowered to the hardwood surface. "And thanks again for letting stay with you for a while."

"It wasn't any trouble." Yin replied courteously.

Because Terry was still sixteen and only a high-school sophomore, he wasn't allowed residence without a parent or legal guardian. Since he was too old for an orphanage, but too young to be a legal adult, the GCPD had insisted police custody until they were able to find a suitable home for him. And because she was long-time friends with the McGinnis's, Ellen Yin had accepted the responsibility without haste. Drawing a cup for herself, Yin took a seat on the opposite side of the dining table, never letting her gaze from the troubled teenager. If losing his mother had turned him into a hooligan, she was afraid of how this would affect him. McGinnis really was a good kid, just confused.

"I was listening to the report." Terry said, deciding to change the subject. "They said the cops were still investigating. What is there to investigate? You said it yourself that the Jokerz are the ones responsible."

"I know that and a few others believe it, too." Yin nodded, taking a quick sip. "But Commissioner Tan strongly believes that this is a setup at that someone is trying to frame the Jokerz. Rival gangs like the Great Whites or the Mud Pack." She lowered her eyes into her beverage, watching her own reflection against the surface. "I argued my case and the commissioner threated me with desk duty unless I stop wasting his time and get back to work."

"The commissioner seems pretty sure that the Jokerz aren't the guys." Terry narrowed his eyes. He honestly liked Dana, but her father just seemed…wrong in some way. "So you've got no other leads."

"The Jokerz are the only ones that match." Yin answered with certainty. "Not only did they leave their signature, but they also had the perfect motive. They obviously had a grudge against you and it was only a matter of time before they took things too far." She was suddenly brought out of her thoughts by a loud knocking at the door. "Wow, delivery's getting faster every day."

But once she reached the door, she did not find the Chinese takeout they were expecting, but Bruce Wayne with his faithful watchdog seated at his side. Yin was clearly taken back by the old man's appearance – how many multi-billionaires do you know that make house visits? But Terry had been expecting him for a while, but was rather hoping he would leave his killer beast back at the mansion. The way Ace was sending him the evil eye didn't exactly lift his spirit.

"Mr. Wayne, this – this is a surprise." Yin stammered obviously.

"Sorry for dropping by unannounced." Wayne said apologetically; Ace tapping his nose with a whine. "But we were hoping to see Terry McGinnis before we left. I heard he was staying here with you."

"You two know each other?" Yin questioned, looking particularly suspicious at the young man.

"It's nothing like that." Wayne said lightly. "Actually, Mr. McGinnis saved me from a few Great Whites the other night."

"Did he now?" Yin blinked amazingly.

"I know he's going through a rough time right now," Wayne admitted casually. "But I was hoping we could have a talk, maybe take a walk around the block. And old man like myself could use the exercise."

"Let me grab my coat." Terry accepted before Yin could answer.

The stupefied expression on her face after he shut the door behind him was the high point of Terry's day. Young McGinnis followed the former caped crusader out of the apartment complex, keeping a good distance from Ace and his flesh-ripping fangs. Who better to be Batman's familiar than a bloodthirsty dog, Terry mused. The Burnley district of Gotham City was a nice neighborhood within walking distance of GCPD headquarters, one of the reasons why Yin had opted to move here. Wayne was impassive while the walked the park, stopping only occasionally to greet people he knew or let Ace mark his territory. If it wasn't for that fact that he knew Wayne's secret, he would have guess that the old man had gone senile. It was another ten minutes of silence before the two found a bench on the other end of the grounds a short distance away from others, mostly likely to eliminate the possibility of eavesdroppers.

"Warren was a good friend of mine." Wayne said collectively; McGinnis raised a brow. "He helped me out of more than a few jams in the day. Gotham hasn't suffered a loss since my own parents were murdered."

"Or when you hung up the cape." Terry proclaimed heavily, leaning back.

"Nightwing and Red Robin did a good enough job replacing me." Wayne replied. The pair quickly hushed their conversation until a group of joggers had passed over. "I heard you telling Commissioner Tan that the Jokerz killed your father. Are you quite sure it was them."

"I didn't pay up and now they wanted payback." Terry scowled. "They had the perfect alibi."

"You might be right." Wayne nodded thoughtfully; Ace groaned disdainfully. "But then again, you could be wrong." Terry stammered unexpectedly; Ace barked in satisfaction. "If you think about it, everything points to the Jokerz: the intention, the calling cards, and the cause of death. Yet with all this evidence, Commissioner Tan is convinced that the Jokerz are being set up. From what I understand, the commissioner would have sent them to Arkham City for jaywalking."

"You think he's being paid off?" Terry asked shockingly. He had never liked the commissioner, but it was Dana that he was worried about.

"Yes, but not by the Jokerz." Wayne stated with conviction. "They don't have the kind of money or influence to overrule the Gotham City Police. Whoever the Jokerz are working for is paying the commissioner to make sure the GCPD doesn't get their hands on the Jokerz."

"If you know this, why haven't you done anything?" Terry questioned outrageously, ignoring Ace's warning growls.

"I don't have the right evidence to convict them just yet." Wayne answered indifferently. "And even if I find it, it'll be difficult to get the criminals to confess."

"Batman could do it." Terry said determinedly.

Bruce Wayne and the teenaged orphan exchanged glares to one another, both sharing their own meaning. Bruce had given up on the mantel of the bat after Joker's last laugh, but the child was still clinging to the aspect of Batman's return. Though he would never admit it, the elderly billionaire had missed the action and danger that came from wearing the cowl. But Terry wasn't the first that had tried to convince him. Nightwing, Red Robin, Oracle, Catwoman, the Justice League – they all tried and failed. And even if he wanted to put on the cape again, he was too old and too slow to carry on. Sighing gravely, the elderly man used his cane for support as he stood up with Ace sharply jumping in attention.

"It's time to face the truth, McGinnis." Wayne sighed, suddenly feeling much older than he was. "Batman is gone."

With that being said, Bruce Wayne and his faithful hound continued to finish the rest of the trail, leaving Terry alone with his thoughts. The troubled teen glared at Wayne's departing backside, feeling betrayed. That's when he came to a decision. If Bruce Wayne wasn't going to do something about this, then Terry McGinnis was. But first, he needed to make a quick stop.

* * *

Wayne and Ace returned to the mansion late that night. With the whole ordeal of Warren's death, Roman thought it was the ample opportunity to enlist another hostile takeover of Wayne Enterprises. Naturally, years of crime fighting and paranoia had prepared the elderly billionaire for this type of situation. He was able to dissolve Sionis's latest annexation before it had even begun and still had time for a quick dinner on the way home. The former superhero unhooked Ace from his leash before opening the manors doors, allowing his faithful familiar to skipping inside.

"Home sweet home, eh?" Bruce said grinned, closing the door behind him.

But when Ace failed to respond, Bruce dropped his gaze in curiosity. The Great Dane was distracted by something moving around the ceiling; his head moved in circles to follow it. Wayne mimicked the action to find a stray bat fluttering nearly the crystal chandelier. With a sharp eye that aided him in many years, the elderly billionaire noticed that this particular bat was missing a portion of its right ear. It was the same bat that had shown particular attraction to…Wayne's eyes flew wide with anxiety.

"Oh, please tell me he didn't." Wayne groaned.

Hobbling as fast as he could to the living room – Ace was still following the flying mammal – and stepped up to the grandfather clock that concealed the Batcave. He quickly winded the clock arms to 10:47 and stepped back following the loud click and waited impatiently for the appliance to move. He really needed to give the thing a tune-up. He staggered down the staircase as fast as he could, ignoring the lights that activate upon entrance, and settled his gaze on the display cases. His worst fears were confirmed. The cape, cowl, and utility belt of the original Batman costume had been removed, but the bodysuit that once belonged to Nightwing was missing, leaving only the domino mask. He didn't need to be the world's greatest detective to figure this one out.

"McGinnis…" Wayne rumbled darkly.

* * *

"This – is – awesome!"

Flying across the rooftops of Gotham's East End, Terry McGinnis could not withhold his excitement through his exuberant cheers. He needed a refresher course on being Batman. He still couldn't believe he was wearing the cape and cowl of the Batman in addition to the legendary utility belt. Terry wanted to take the original suits, but besides that Kevlar skin was ripped to shreds, the suit was way too big – it must have been built for a giant. So he opted for the costume of the first Boy Wonder, whose size was perfectly matched with his own. But besides all the fun and games, Terry was on a mission – it was time to get serious. The newly caped crusader performed one final flip over an air vent and landed on the edge of the building at a crouch. His eyes narrowed on a small chemical warehouse that had amazingly survived the passage of time, despite being abandoned for several decades. Ace Chemical Processing – birthplace of the original Joker. In retrospect, it seemed like an obvious place for a gang like the Jokerz to hide.

"Ok, time for some answers." Terry muttered in a low voice; he needed something to match his new identity.

"McGinnis!" Screaming and fall backwards on the rooftop was not the way Terry would have envisioned his first night as the Batman. "McGinnis! Get out of that suit now!"

"Wayne?" Terry blinked in confusion, scanning the roof. "Where are you?"

"The cowl has a built-in radio transmitter." Wayne explained over the receiver, trying to keep his voice as level as possible. "Now I am only going to say this once: turn around and bring that suit right back."

"Not happening, Wayne." Terry answered defiantly. "My father is dead because of some punks in clown make-up. I want to know who set them up and if the police aren't going to do anything about it, then the Batman is gonna have to take matters into his own hand."

"Terry, I understand what you're going through, believe me." Wayne responded, trying to sound sympathetic. "But you're only sixteen – you can't take the law into your own hands. If you let yourself become obsessed with revenge, there will be no coming back."

"This isn't about revenge." Terry proclaimed. "It's about justice."

"Terry, don't do it!" Wayne shouted urgently. "Ter~"

He flipped the communication off.

* * *

Under Terminal's new decree, the Jokerz were going to party hard tonight. To celebrate, Bonk had succeeded in "borrowing" four kegs of liquor from the local tavern, which Woof had already started chugging. Chucko and Ghoul had swiped the largest stereo they could find and blasted it up to full volume. Bozo – the weediest member of the street gang – had been charged with stealing food from the local take-out, but somehow ended up getting mauled by a pack of dogs. He still hadn't figured out that the others had purposely set him up. This left Terminal grinning in satisfactory on his prized leather chair with Deidra cuddling close on his lap – let's face it, who wouldn't be happy in that situation? Surprisingly enough, Delia was the only one who hadn't joined in on the drinking and ear-bursting music. She had isolated herself to sitting on a crate in the corner, staring absently at her lap. Deidra sighed at her twin's lack of spirit.

"C'mon, Dee-Dee, stop being a party-pooper!" Deidra groaned annoyingly.

"Whazza matter, girl?" Bonk draped his arm over Delia's shoulder, much to her distaste. "There's no sad clowns allowed in this gang." He shoved a bottle of beer into her free hand. "Down some and have fun already."

"No, thank you." Delia grimaced, throwing off his arm and setting the brew aside. "Are you sure we haven't gone a little too far this time. I mean, if it was something small like robbing a store, I wouldn't complain. But we actually killed somebody this time! We killed Terry's father! He was our friend, Deidra?"

"Emphasis on was." Deidra grinned devilishly.

"What if the police find out?" Delia exclaimed

"Ah, you worry too much." Chucko waved nonchalantly; Woof hiccupped and giggled dimly.

"I think…" Bozo started sheepishly.

"And that's your problem, Bozo" Terminal said severely, causing the weedy clown to flinch. "You're not in this group to think – you're just the entertainment." He watched the sad clown visibly slump before setting his skeletal gaze on the guilty-looking twin. "McGinnis has this coming since the day he rejected my sincere offer to join our little club. And he started digging his grave after all those times he neglected to pay for our…services. It was just bad luck that he old man had to be the one to fill it." He chuckled ghoulishly. "And don't worry about the police; they won't be bothering us again. With our new friend looking out for us, the Jokerz are going places."

"Starting with Arkham City!"

The music screeched to a stop as the Jokerz unexpectedly jumped at the sound – it was dark and menacing. Ghoul instinctively reached for his pumpkin basket, Bonk tripped on his feet, Delia leapt in attention, and Woof was too drunk to notice anything. Bozo attempted to dissolve into the background. With an impressive scowl on his skeletal features, Terminal stood up, throwing Deidra off his lap, and looked up to the catwalks over the chemical vats. While expecting to be swarmed with cops, one could only imagine their expression why they instead found a man in a black/blue unitard, a tattered cape, a golden belt, and a pointy-eared hood. Terry had expected the twisted thugs to scream in fear, but instead received a wave of outrageous laughter.

"Is…Is this guy serious." Ghoul cackled, holding his sides. "Hey, didn't ya get the memo. Halloween's in October."

"Who are you supposed to be anyway?" Chucko snorted behind his mask.

"I'm Batman, lowlifes!" Batman growled darkly; he was starting to get pissed off.

"Hahaha! You hear…you hear that?" Terminal chortled loudly to his followers. "He's Batman! Haha – ooh!"

When everyone was too busy laughing at the mismatched superhero, Batman glided down to the floor with his cape stretched outwards. Though the rips in the cloth made maneuvering more difficult, its glider effects were still efficient. Batman quickly closed the distance between him and Terminal while raising his boots to press against the clown's face. The skeletal leader was thrown backwards, sliding against the concrete, and stopped short of his collective gang as the caped crusader landed gracefully. The Jokerz attempted to help their leader back to his feet, but threw them off as he stood – a thin faucet of blood dripping from his broken nostrils.

"All right, ya wanna play, bat-fake?" Terminal sneered. "Let's play. Get 'em, boys!"

Delia gave an offensive glare, but was blatantly ignored in favor of killing the costumed vigilante. First up was Bonk, which really didn't help Terry's nerves. During their countless meetings, McGinnis had always come up short when matched with the bald behemoth. But then he remembered that Terry McGinnis wasn't fight – Batman was. Bonk came up with a powerful haymaker, which Batman easily ducked and chanced himself with a direct uppercut to the clown's chin. Naturally, he was stunned as Bonk stumbled backwards with his hand to his chin and tears threating to break out. Terry never realized he was that strong. His only explanations were that the Batsuit provided enhanced strength or his confidence made him stronger. Terry was leaning towards the former. But while he was deliberating this, Chucko came up from behind the costumed teenager and constricted him into a bear hug. A grown man in a pink unitard hugging a kid in a bat costume was not the kind of image one would want to present.

"Dude, you ever hear of a little thing called personal space?" Batman grunted, struggling to break free.

"Hey, Bonk, I got him!" Chucko exclaimed.

"Hold him right there." Bonk smiled, cracking his knuckles threateningly. "I'm gonna make this quick and painful."

"Wow, I guess you're not the brains of the outfit." Batman mocked.

Snarling heatedly, the bald clown quickly threw his fist back, leaving a perfect opening for a counterattack. Batman quickly pressed his feet into the floor and bended forward, throwing Chucko over his back and directly into Bonk's flying fist. The clown mask cracked on impact and Chucko smacked against the wall. He didn't get up after that. With the opportunity presenting itself, Batman reached up and twisted Bonk's extended arm, listening to the bones crack. He overlooked Bonk's whimpering and flung the white-skinned brute into the stereo system, crushing the appliance under his weight. Such a waste.

"Party's over, clown." Batman glowered.

"Ah, but what's a party…" Ghoul smirked, reaching into his pumpkin. "Without a few favors."

The Halloween-themed goon withdrew a handful of silver spheres with red outlines – standard explosives. It was a good thing McGinnis had browsed through the pockets before stealing the Utility Belt. Batman buried his hand into the third pouch from the right and retrieved the caped crusader's signature weapon: the batarang. Though he knew he was taking a wild shot, the costumed vigilante pitched the batarang and watched it spiral around the warehouse. Thankfully, Ghoul was too distracted by the flying instrument to activate the grenades. Whether by talent or dumb luck, the batarang snapped at Ghoul's wrist and forced him to drop the explosive. Batman quickly followed with a sharp jab to the thug's jawline, leaving him sprawled on the floor. The new Dark Knight stood straight and narrowed his gaze on Terminal and the Dee-Dee twins – Woof had passed out from overdose to alcohol.

"Um…maybe we should split, Dee-Dee?" Delia suggested.

"Right behind ya, Dee-Dee." Deidra nodded nervously.

"What are you…?" Terminal stammered, sneering at his retreating henchwomen. "Cowards!"

There was no way Batman was going to let any of them get away. The teenaged vigilante removed another batarang from his utility belt and aimed for one of the kegs that was leaning on its side. The edge pierced into the cap and ignited the pressure of the container that caused it to rocket across the facility. And unfortunately for the Dee-Dee twins, they were right in the kegs path when it flew by, knocking them off their feet and smacking their foreheads against the pavement. Batman couldn't resist smiling at his accomplishment. As Terry McGinnis, he never would have had the courage or the nerves to take out five members of the Jokerz. And since Bozo was the least possible threat, the only one left was…

"Gotcha, bat-fake!"

The new Caped Crusader barely looked and dodged in time as Terminal swung a lead pipe aiming for his head. Where the skeletal hooligan got a pipe in an abandoned chemical factor was beyond him. Fortunately, it doesn't look like Terminal had a lot of experience when it came to fighting seeing as how his moves were wild and uncoordinated. As Terminal swung his blunt weapon down, Terry used his glove to block the impact and twisted around to maintain a firm grip on the pipe. The skeletal gang leader started pulling back, but the Dark Knight thrust his open palm into his chest. Terminal staggered backwards, holding his chest and wheezing heavily. Terry was finding it hard to believe that he was in charge. The Jokerz leader twisted his face in an ugly sneer and charged head-on. Stupid mistake. The Batman effortlessly blocked a series of punches from the goon before catching Terminal by his wrist. He twisted it around, earning a pained grunt from his captive, and shoved Terminal face-first against the hull of the chemical tank. You don't get arrest countless times without learning a few tricks.

"Hey, hey, I give, I give!" Terminal pleaded tearfully.

"I don't playing with your amateurs." Batman growled; he got the intimidating voice down. "I want answers and I expect to get them."

"All right, all right." Terminal whimpered. "I tell you what you want to know. Just please, don't hurt me."

"You're pathetic." Batman commented in disgust. "Now, I want to know…"

"He ain't tellin' ya anything, bat-freak."

Bozo had finally come out of hiding, wearing a wide grin of his expression. Of course, that part may be due to the large amounts of makeup. But look at his right hand, the caped crusader could spot a silver sphere in the weedy teen's palm – one of Ghoul's explosives. Obviously showing no signs of concern for his leader, Bozo pressed a hidden button that activated the bomb with a crimson-red glow before chucking it at the duo. There wasn't much time. Reaching into the farthest left pocket of his utility belt, Batman withdrew the signature grapple gun and aimed for the ceiling. The grappled claw stabbed into the ceiling and, surprisingly, lifted both the Dark Knight and Terminal off the ground. And not a moment too soon. Just shortly after they had made their escape, the grenade impacted against the chemical contain, creating a powerful explosion that nearly caused Terry to drop his capture. And while they may have been saved, Bozo wasn't as lucky. The blast ripped a hole in the side of the tank, releasing a jet of acidic-green liquid to spray the poor lackey. The factory was deathly quiet with only Bozo's shrieks to puncture the atmosphere before he fell silent as well. The run-off lasted for close to two minutes before the tank finally expelled the last of its toxin. All that was left of the scene was a stretch of pavement that looked like it had burned away by acid – Bozo was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh man…" Batman murmured softly as he and Terminal dropped down on the catwalk.

"Serves the little freak right." Terminal scoffed spitefully. "What was he thinking? He could have killed me."

"You don't seem to have a problem with killing others." Batman glared, suddenly remembering what he came here for. "You clowns are the ones that killed Warren McGinnis. But even with all the evidence against you, the GCPD are still convinced that you're innocent."

"Ever consider that we are." Terminal said smugly. He smirk was wiped clean as the Dark Knight lifted him up by his collar. "Ok, ok, listen. Some guy hired us to knock off Mr. McGinnis. We already had a score against his kid and the boss promised he'd keep the police off our backs if we did."

"I want names, punk!" Batman barked.

"I don't know! Honest!" Terminal shrieked.

"You're lying." Batman stated knowingly. Having a sudden burst of inspiration, the Dark Knight pulled his prey and lifted him over the second tanks of chemicals that took out his stooge. "You have one more chance, Terminal. And I expect it to be the right one."

"I-I-I don't know!" Terminal squeaked fearfully.

"I think my hand is slipping." Batman said in an airy tone, pulling back two fingers.

"All right! I'll tell ya!" Terminal screamed. Batman pulled him closer, but still left dangling. "I don't know who he really is, but everyone on the street calls him the Black Mask."

Almost immediately, his previous chat with Dana popped right into his head.

* * *

~~~_Flashback~~~_

"Ugh, Sionis." Dana grimaced, folding her arms on the table. "I've been hearing a lot of rumors about him around town. Word has it that he's been buying out companies left and right to finance his undercover business. You know; illegal stuff. My dad thinks he's been working street operations under the name Black Mask."

~~~_End Flashback~~~_

* * *

Roman Sionis – Corporate businessman, the Black Mask, and his father's murderer. Terry finally had a name for his prey. Hoping that the Dark Knight would let him go, Terminal was severely disappointed when the costumed vigilante released his grip, allowing him to free-fall right into the chemicals. Or at least he would have, if wasn't for the grappling line wrapping around his ankles. The bat had decided to show one last piece of mercy.

"Hey!" Terminal called. "You can't leave me like this!"

"You're right." Batman answer stoic. "I'll let the police know you're here."

And with that, the caped crusader vanished into the shadows, leaving the Jokerz to wallow in their defeat.

* * *

Within the hour, Batman was resting on the edge of the building directly across from Sionis Industries, Black Mask's central headquarters. He could feel the blood pounding in his veins. After spending two days of misery, wondering who had the nerve to kill of a decent man like Warren McGinnis, Terry was ready to take vengeance. He wanted to make Sionis suffer for the pain he put McGinnis through. He even wanted to overlook his one rule – he wanted to kill Black Mask. But there was the problem of getting into Sionis's headquarters. When he had visited as Terry McGinnis, they had to go through eleven patrol gates before they even made it to Black Mask's penthouse. And with Warren dead, there was no doubt that the security had been strengthened by tenfold. It would be damn near impossible to get in. But when the costumed vigilante contemplated his entry point, the sudden fluttering of wings entered his range of hearing. He looked up and blinked in surprise as a bat landed on his shoulder, nuzzling his cheek. And based on the chuck of sinew missing from its right ear, Terry could remember the same winged mammal that he had first met in the Batcave. He really needed to find a name for him.

"What are you doing here, little guy?" Batman asked, petting the bat with a finger.

"I sent him." The teenaged vigilante nearly jumped until realizing that the friendly bat was wearing a radio transmitter. "McGinnis, I am asking you to bring that suit back immediately. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

"Oh, I think I do." Terry answered seriously. "I know who paid the Jokerz to kill my father. It was Roman Sionis."

"Hmm." Wayne hummed. "That would make sense. Warren McGinnis was prepared testify against Sionis in court. It the bad publicity in addition to his illegal exploits would have put Roman out of business."

"And I'm going to take him down for good." Terry stated with vindication.

"Out of the question, McGinnis!" Wayne snapped boldly. "This is a matter for the police to handle!"

"Sionis has the police in his pocket!" Terry argued. "I'm the only one who knows the truth. I'm the only one that can bring him down!"

"McGinnis…"

"I did research on you, Mr. Wayne." Terry informed, earning a moment of silence from the former Dark Knight. "I know how you lost your parents to some lowlife thug. The guy was killed before the court had a chance to convict him." He starred over the edge, looking down on the city streets with sorrowful eyes. "You never got the justice you deserved, Wayne. But the guy who signed my father's death warrant is walking around free and no one is doing a thing to stop him. Please…..don't take this away from me."

The costumed adolescent was greeted with more silence. What could Wayne be thinking right now? Was he going to try and stop Terry from receiving vengeance – from getting justice? Or would Sionis just continue to take innocent lives as long as it suited him. No, Terry wasn't going to allow that. Whether as Batman or Terry McGinnis, he wasn't gonna let Black Mask walk away free. And there was nothing Bruce Wayne could do to stop him.

"I disabled the main security." Wayne responded, shocking the newcomer. "The guard will be I full alert, so you're going to need to be on your toes. And when you see Roman…give him a kick for me."

"Thank you." Terry murmured gratefully.

Stretching his cape to its glider purposes, the new Caped Crusader took off into the skies with his bat partner at his side.

* * *

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